A Little Butler
by Fangirl9001
Summary: Rhett Butler took little Bonnie to London, but alas, he just had to stop for a shave.
1. Chapter 1

It was another day in Mrs. Lovett's pie shop. Mr. Todd was at work upstairs and she, Lovett, was busy with more hungry customers than she could manage. She had been taking a much-needed break in her parlor; Toby, that ever-helpful boy whom she was coming to see as a son, had agreed to wait on the customers for a bit. It was then that she saw a curious sight out her window.

A stylish coach had pulled up to the front of the store, and a rather handsome man had stepped out. He had jet-black hair and expensive-looking clothing, along with a rather smug air about him. He looked quickly up at Sweeney's shop before turning to someone inside the coach, speaking for a moment, then turning and heading upstairs. The coach then left, but not before a little girl, no doubt the man's daughter, emerged from it. She looked no older than four or so. Her hair was in thick black curls held back with a large bow that matched her frilly blue dress, also very expensive and stylish. In her hands she clutched a tiny kitten. Mrs. Lovett rose, both to greet the little girl and to warn Mr. Todd not to slay her father.

"'Ello, care for a seat? Best pies in all of London." Toby bowed to the little girl, having caught her at the entrance. She giggled and curtseyed at him.

"I'd love one. Daddy says these pies are some of the best in the world," she said. Toby led her to a table, where she set her kitten carefully in her lap. Mrs. Lovett raised an eyebrow, having heard the girl's accent. _An American. A very rich little American._ She hurried faster up the stairs, hoping she was in time to save the man; the girl's mother was nowhere in sight and she didn't care to create another orphan. London had quite enough as it was.

"Mr. Todd? Mr. Todd?" She called up the stairs, panting slightly. She finally reached the barber shop door, praying silently that she was in time. They had been using a system of code, a carefully-selected word Mrs. Lovett would say ever so casually in Sweeney's shop while he was with a customer. It was Sweeney's cue to shave the man, and nothing more-that he held some prominent job (other than Judge or Beadle, of course) or that he would somehow be missed, that his disappearing at the shop would raise suspicion. It was this word that hung upon Mrs. Lovett's lips as she quickly pushed open the door.

"Mr. Todd, I, uh, need to run to the market to fetch some-" she was interrupted by a violent spray of blood to her face. She closed her eyes and sputtered, disgusted, quickly wiping at it with her sleeve. Her stomach knotted as she heard the tell-tale _creak_ of the barber's chair tilting back, of a dead man sliding down, down, down into the bakehouse. She was too late.

"…Sugar," she finished, though it was of no use. Sweeney was wiping his blood-soaked razor carefully, muttering to himself and not acknowledging Mrs. Lovett's blood-smeared face in the doorway.

"Bloody annoying…wouldn't shut up about that stupid _wife_ of his, she sounds worse than him…" he looked up at Lovett with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "And what do _you_ want?"

"_Sugar_," she repeated in a panicked hiss, glancing out the window down at the little girl. Toby was pouring her tea. She turned back to Sweeney to watch the horror and realization dawn on him.

"Are…are you sure?" he asked, now scrubbing at his razor nervously. "He wasn't from around here, he was-"

"American, I know," Mrs. Lovett replied. "Like his _daughter_, who's down there _waiting for him_." Sweeney's mouth fell open in shock.

"You mean…"

"Now what the _hell_ do you propose we do?" she asked, but there was no response from him. Looking utterly numb, he pushed Mrs. Lovett out of his shop and nearly sent her toppling down the stairs.

"Tell her what we told Toby about Pirelli…can't kill her…she's got a mum in America, Scarlett something...we can write her..."

"Write her. Excellent, did he tell you where the hell she lives?"

"Please. Just…just go," he said absently, his voice cracking, before he retreated back to his shop and slammed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I know this chapter kind of sucks, but please bear with me. The next one will have Scarlett, and as you know, unless your name is Ashley Wilkes, a dash of Scarlett makes everything better. Also, happy 10/10/10!

"Fat lot of help _you _are," Lovett muttered to herself as she left. She quickly reached the girl's table, where she was seated eating a pie and giving bits of it to the kitten. Her smile was not entirely faked. "Hullo, and what's _your _name, luv?" she asked warmly. The girl looked up with another wide grin.

"My name is Bonnie Blue Butler," she replied with a nod. "I'm waiting for Daddy to get a shave-we might even be going home soon. We don't live here in London, but we've had _such _a nice time here."

"O' course you did," Mrs. Lovett said. She turned to the boy, who was standing nearby staring at her. "Toby? Could you fetch _me_ a pie, bring it back here, there's a good lad…" She waited until the boy was out of earshot before returning her attention to the girl with a heavy sigh. "Bonnie, dear, I'm afraid…your father had to leave."

Bonnie frowned. "_Leave_?" The girl asked, confused. "Without me?"

"Yes, luv, it was _very_ important, very urgent, he was called away, and he didn't say when he'd be back. I'm afraid you'll have to be stayin' here for the time being…"

"But…but _why_?" She was frightened, indignant; Mrs. Lovett had anticipated that. She stood and put an arm around the girl's shoulders just as they began to shake with sobs.

"I'm terribly sorry he had to go, and so suddenly. But we'll write your mum. She can come here to pick you up. You'll be home in no time at all. Do you know where your mum lives?"

"W-we live in Atlanta…" Bonnie wept. "She must be there, w-with my brother an-and my sister..."

"Atlanta...That's up north, isn't it?" Mrs. Lovett wondered aloud. She had never been partial to geography, particularly of a place so far away.

"I th-think so…" Bonnie replied as she was ushered inside, being equally ignorant of the subject. She looked up at Mrs. Lovett with wide, vivid blue eyes. She had a hopeful, perhaps even excited look. "I can really stay with you?"

"Well, we aren't going to toss you into the gutter, are we? No, you'll be stayin'…ah…" Mrs. Lovett's face fell as she realized that she had no spare room for the girl. She knew a little lady of Bonnie's status would prefer a large, downy bed, but the closest there was in the house was her own, worn-out mattress or the cot that Sweeney had upstairs. That only left the parlor, where Toby slept in a loveseat. There was an armchair as well, comfy and large enough for the tiny girl to curl up on, which Mrs. Lovett led her to.

"I'm sleeping _here_?" Bonnie asked incredulously. She carefully put her kitten down on the floor and stood by the chair, arms crossed, her face arranged in an angry pout. "This isn't even a _bed_."

"I know. I know, luv…But we'll fetch you one as soon as we can. Tomorrow. But for now I'm afraid this'll have to do," she said gently. Bonnie's indignant glare wasn't particularly threatening on such a tiny, round face, and Mrs. Lovett had to suppress a giggle. "Do forgive us, dear, we weren't quite prepared to have such a refined little thing staying here at the shop."

"It's…okay, for tonight," Bonnie finally said. "Can my kitty stay here too?" Mrs. Lovett stared down at the kitten, which had already fallen fast asleep in the armchair—after leaving a little gift on the floor nearby.

"As long as you clean up after her, luv." Mrs. Lovett sighed and turned from the room. "O' course, it's only the afternoon. You can stay here, in the house, while Mr. T and I sort out how your mother will get here, alright?"

The girl gave a sullen nod. It was quite adorable. Mrs. Lovett nodded back and, after an hour or so when she'd managed to curb her customers' demands for more pie, she snatched a few free moments for herself and headed back up the steps towards Mr. Todd's shop. To her surprise, the door opened in front of her, and out stepped…a complete stranger. He was a ragged-looking, solitary man, completely shaved with not a scratch on him. Lovett hurried inside, slamming the door open. Sweeney's parlor was pristine, with not so much as a droplet of blood anywhere. Something was dreadfully wrong.

"And wot's wrong with you, then?" she snapped, addressing Sweeney. The barber was seated in his chair, his face unreadable as usual, yet somehow his eyes seemed even emptier than normal (or what passed for normal among the two of them). "Bloody idiot, you've let—" she paused, to estimate. "twenty, thirty pies jus' _walk_ out the door!"

"I did to that girl what Turpin did to my Johanna," he murmured, completely ignoring the baker's irritation. "I'm no better than him. No better than that rotten _thing._" Todd seemed to have a genuine sadness in him that she hadn't seen since his little epiphany, but Mrs. Lovett was rather unimpressed.

"We kill and eat people, luv. We're not better than anyone."

"I was better than _him_," hissed Sweeney. "I was better than the man who tore my family apart. Now I've done exactly the same." He sighed and sniffed loudly.

"I see." Her deadpan, sullen manner seemed to fade a bit as she cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder. He, for once, did not shrug it off. "Mr. Todd, it wasn't your fault. I mean—it was, but you had no way of knowin' that he had a little girl downstairs. I should've warned you sooner." He didn't answer; Mrs. Lovett took this as a signal to continue talking. "Listen. She said her name was Butler, all we have to do is find—er, what was her name? The mother?"

"I wasn't listening," he mumbled.

"You never listen to me, dearie. But you said her mother's name—Ruby? Violet?"

"He said it. He mentioned that little girl, waiting for him, and I didn't listen and I slaughtered him like an _animal-_" he threw the razor in his hand at large, slanted window; it hit the pane with enough force to crack it, and Mrs. Lovett jumped.

"Mr. T!" she shrieked. Showing a bit of his characteristic anger once again, Sweeney shoved Lovett's hand away, stood from the chair, and stomped out the door, trying his best to hide tears.

"Scarlett. The woman I widowed is named Scarlett," he muttered before slamming the door.

"…Thank you." Mrs. Lovett sighed and wondered how she was to deal with everything along with the fact that her literal partner-in-crime was acting like an angry teenaged boy.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I am soo sorry for the delay. I've had some computer troubles and wasn't able to access this story for quite a while. The good news: I'm uploading two chapters today. Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy. Scarlett's finally arrived!

(Also if the story doesn't show up, please let me know, like I said my computer's being odd.)

Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler was completely and utterly livid. As she stepped from the rotting wood of the docks onto the dreary, cobblestoned streets of London, she was nearly overcome with the urge to hunt down that cad-no, worse than a cad. Low-down dirty son of a bitch, more like it, though she'd never say such things in polite company. Regardless, she was ready to shake the life out of him for doing this. She would, she promised herself. But first—Bonnie. Her poor, innocent little girl, left all alone, abandoned by her father to live with two complete strangers. What exactly was important enough to make him completely disappear on the girl he supposedly loved so much? She was determined to beat that answer out of him—that is, if she didn't kill him first.

Fleet Street, the letter had said when it finally reached her. Her daughter was in a little pie shop on Fleet Street, and once she'd sent Mammy off to the nearest Inn with all her belongings (only a few essentials packed into four trunks and a hatbox), she had little trouble finding both a carriage and directions for Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, which from what she could gather was quite famous indeed. At the very least, she thought with relief, Bonnie wasn't staying with some dirt-poor English trash. At least she was being fed and clothed well (of course, her daughter had strict standards and would've demanded it anyhow).

Scarlett arrived at the charming, crowded little terrace outside the two-story building, signs advertising Mrs. Lovett's World-Famous Meat Pies plastered across several windows and walls. It was all rather charming, but her vicious pout didn't fade even as a cockney-accented little boy only a few years older than Bonnie trotted up to her and gave a low bow.

"Good Morning, Ma'am, Welcome to Missus Lovett's-"

"I know, I know where I am," she snapped. "I need to speak with Lovett, urgently. Bring her here, if you please. It's very important."

"Err…yes, ma'am…" The boy was smartly dressed, but still had the air of a street-urchin about him: small, thin, a little grimy, and a little slow. She noticed a bit of pink spreading around his cheeks as he stood silently in front of her for a moment, a statue among the hustle and bustle of the shop.

"Well? Run along! Didn't anybody ever tell you it was rude to stare?" Scarlett made her way carefully towards an empty table as the boy nodded and dashed into the shop. A moment later, a woman stepped from the shop, looked around, and was pointed toward Scarlett by the little boy. This woman was an absolute mess. Her red hair looked more like a rat's nest, fluffy and frizzed, tangled and piled atop her head. She looked paler than death, with great black shadows around her eyes. Had she slept at all in the past week? Her dress was dark and lacy (everyone seemed to be dressed in such dark, dreary colors; Scarlett felt very out of place in her bright emerald-green skirts) and as she maneuvered over, she looked just as angry as her guest.

"You are Bonnie's mother," she said in a weary snarl. It wasn't a question; this woman simply seemed to know. Her accent was just the same as the little boy's. She collapsed onto the chair facing Scarlett and leaned forward with both elbows on the table.

"Why, yes, I am." Scarlett countered the forward bluntness by putting on her best polite, demure voice and delicately reached out a gloved hand. "You must be Nellie Lovett."

"Yeh. I am." Mrs. Lovett didn't smile, didn't reach for the hand, didn't bother with any politeness. Normally she found it all a load of sod anyway, but she hadn't slept in weeks and the awful spawn of the hypocritical little tart seated in front of her was to blame. "You're 'ere to pick her up, I expect?" Lovett stood, quickly beckoning Scarlett to follow.

"Of course. And, thank you so very much, Mrs. Lovett. I can certainly compensate you for your time, you know, to thank you for taking my Bonnie in."

"Taking her back will be reward enough, ma'am," Nellie muttered to herself.

"Hmm? Oh, you know I just can't imagine where her father went. He never mentioned leaving her anywhere, and I haven't heard from him since he left…But I do trust she hasn't been too much of a handful," Scarlett prattled.

"To be honest? Yes. She bleedin' well has." Nellie said frankly. "I've seen little ones who were afraid of the dark, but your little Bonnie Blue 'ere…she's somethin' special. The way she shrieked every time a light went out, you'd think someone were shoving her into a meat grinder feet-first." She silently recalled the several times when she'd contemplated actually doing this, but went on. "She refuses to help, demands everything she sees whenever we do the shopping, and her cat's pissed on every piece of furniture we own." Scarlett looked appalled as Nellie led her into the parlor, a pout of shock that almost instantly faded once they reached the next room.

"MUM!" a jubilant squeal erupted from the doorway.

"Bonnie!" Scarlett cried, forgetting that absolutely vile Lovett woman for a moment and kneeling down as she saw her daughter sprint from the room, nearly leaping into her arms. "Bonnie, I've missed you so much-"

"I haven't seen your or daddy in so long!" Bonnie mewed into her mother's shoulder. "Do you know where he's been?"

"No…But we'll find him, dearest," Scarlett cooed. "And we aren't leaving London until we do." Mrs. Lovett's eyes widened slightly at this news, while Bonnie's lit up in pure, childlike (sadistic, Nellie thought) glee. Her mother went on, somehow finding strength enough to carry her. "Mammy's here, too, darling! Don't you worry about a thing, we're here and we'll fix everything." She embraced and cuddled the little girl, flouncing right past a now somewhat alarmed Mrs. Lovett.

"You're…you're going to look for 'im." brisk steps followed Scarlett and Bonnie out of the parlor and Mrs. Lovett tried not to let on her gradually increasing panic.

"Yes, that's my plan. He'll have a piece of my mind for what he did, mark my words," Scarlett replied. "It's a big city, but I've got time and I've got the means to look around. He thinks he can hide from me-"

"But-why?" She swerved carefully to block the shop door. "I mean-I don't see why you'd even bother to-"

"And I don't see how it's any of your business, Mrs. Lovett," Scarlett returned curtly. "Rhett Butler is my husband and I intend to find him. If you'll excuse me…"

Lovett didn't move an inch, and a long awkward silence stretched between them for a few seconds. Scarlett very much wanted to shove her out of the doorframe, but a brighter, much more interesting idea occurred to her. She turned not to the woman in front of her, but to the child in her arms.

"And while we're here, Bonnie, we could come and have supper right here, every night. Wouldn't you like that?"

Bonnie's dark curls bounced as she eagerly nodded. "I'd love it, mum! The pies here taste great!"

Mrs. Lovett moved aside. Her eyes met Scarlett's for a brief moment, and she could read them as easily as any book.

She didn't think anyone could make her, Mrs. Lovett, cringe with fear.


End file.
